One Man's Heaven is another Man's Hell
by Aislinn Rose
Summary: An attempt to shed some light on what Dean meant, in Dark Side of the Moon, when he told Sam that John didn't just yell when he ran away to Flagstaff.


**I had been working on What's Done is Done when this contest popped up and a friend of mine encouraged me to enter it. I knew the story wouldn't have been finished in time and this little one shot had been rattling in my head so I entered this one instead. It takes place shortly after Dark Side of the Moon and was intended to shed some light on Dean's daunting words about how John did more than yell when Sam ran away to Flagstaff. I hope you enjoy.  
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Sam nervously sat watching his brother as the silence that hung between them threatened to smother him with the unadulterated magnitude of its weight. He sat and watched as his brother's emotions danced across his face and through his eyes in a macabre battle for dominance; finally coming to an end when something that could have only been described as a combination of indignant hurt and cold acceptance settled in.

He watched as his brother struggled to regain control, to slip his mask back into place. To once again wrap himself in the false sense of security that the walls he so furiously fought to build, so ineffectually provided. He watched and felt his heart break as the control his brother so desperately needed continued to elude him.

Seeing Dean like this was nothing new to Sam, his brother was a living breathing poster child for burying your emotions so deep creating the illusion that they weren't there at all and making it all to easy to believe. But, as Sam had often warned his older sibling all that burying and hiding would eventually catch up to him and it looked as if that time was now.

Dean felt his brother's eyes on him. He felt the weight of Sam's concern and for once he didn't care. What he had seen. What he had heard. What he had felt, had cut him to the quick; had left him wanting, no needing, Sam to feel the pain that he, himself, was feeling. He felt himself struggling to regain his control and although it would have been welcome and was most desired he pushed it down and allowed, in a rare occurrence, his inner being to be exposed. Dean waited for what he was sure to come, and God bless him, Sam didn't disappoint….

"Dean," Sam started in that voice that told him so clearly that he wanted to talk and wouldn't take no for answer. That tone that Sam had masterfully crafted into a melody of conscience concern and caring, a tone that at this very moment was all Dean needed to let loose of his emotions and let it all out.

"Not now Sam," Dean said his voice sounding tired and small, every intention being set on talking, but not making it easy for Sam.

"Dean, please," Sam tried again, desperation coloring his words, painting a picture of just how worried he was over his brother's current state of mind and then he said it, those two words that allowed the dam to break, that gave Dean the permission he had been seeking to really let go; he said, "I'm sorry."

Dean felt his body tense, his heart began to hammer in his chest and for a moment he thought. 'Well this is it. No turning back now,' and he didn't care. He needed this. He needed Sam to understand. He wanted Sam to hurt. "Oh, you're sorry? You're sorry, Sammy? Do you even know what you're apologizing for? Do you," the tone of Dean's voice and the way he violently jumped up from the bed he had been sitting on caused Sam to flinch and push himself and the chair he was sitting in back and away from his brother.

Dean didn't notice Sam's reaction to his outburst, or at least if he did he didn't show it because he kept right on talking his eyes reflecting the same far away quality that his voice now held. "Damn it Sammy, after all we've been through; after all I have given up, sacrificed," Dean's shoulder's slumped and he sat heavily back down on the bed, "to find out that your idea of paradise is when you're away from me…..well to be honest that's a bitch of a pill to swallow. To find out that two of your happiest memories where two of the worst moments in my life….well Sammy I got to tell you; I knew you could be selfish, but man this really takes the cake."

Dean ran a hand over his face and let out a soft sigh. He raised his eyes and made sure that his brother's eyes were locked with his before he continued speaking, "That little trip you took all by yourself to Flagstaff; well that may have been Heaven to you but let me tell you bro, it was Hell for me. When dad got back and found out you had gone missing, he didn't just yell, Sam, he…" Dean's voice cracked and he choked over the words unable to continue.

Sam who had been quietly listening to his brother took his queue and prompted his brother with a question, "He what, Dean? What did dad do?"

Dean swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat and he pushed himself forward, his eyes taking on a haunted look as the memory of what had happened played itself like a movie in his mind while he conveyed the story to his younger brother.

"Dad had just got back from an exceptionally difficult hunt. He had been away from us longer than he had wanted to and he hadn't left on a good note to begin with. You remember that don't you Sam," Dean asked raising his eyebrows ever so slightly a humorless smile ghosting over his lips.

Sam's eyes fell, he remembered; of course he remembered. He had been fighting with their father for a week and a half about how ridiculous his rule about not being allowed to go out with his friends was. Sam had been asked to house sit with, Marty, one of his friends, and John vehemently refused to let him. He had explained that he didn't like the idea of Sam staying overnight at a friend's while he was home, but, since he was going on a hunt he cared for that idea even less.

Sam kept pushing and the morning John left, he and Sam had a major blowout that had landed Dean, once again, in the middle. John left angry and had given Dean the order that Sam was grounded until he returned home from the hunt. He made it clear that it was Dean's responsibility to make sure his brother followed through with the punishment.

"Yeah, you remember don't you," it was more a statement than a question, "You and dad had been fighting for a week over you getting to stay with your friend and he left pissed off leaving me, alone, to deal with you. You went out of your way to make me miserable. You even went so far as to sneak over to your friend's aunt's hoping I wouldn't find you. But, I did. I found you and dragged your scrawny ass home.

You fought with me all the way home. You called me everything under the sun. Hell, you even threw a punch or two at me. Do you have any idea how much it hurt me to not let you stay? If it had been up to me I would've just let it go; but it wasn't. Dad had told me you were grounded, but most importantly he had told you that you weren't allowed to stay over.

When we got back to the house I told you to go to your room and stay there until dinner. But, you didn't stay in your room did you," Dean's voice started out soft and low but grew harder and louder as he continued on, "Hell, you didn't even stay in the house. You were so angry with both me and dad that you took off; Sammy, you didn't leave a note or anything, you just left.

When I went to our room the window was open and you were gone. I called all your friends, checked out all your favorite places but you were no where to be found. I was in full panic mode.

I had thought about calling Bobby, Pastor Jim, anyone but I was too afraid to; I didn't want dad to find out you had gone missing. I thought I could find you before he got home. I guess I was wrong. I spent every waking hour looking for you. I didn't eat, I barely slept.

This went on for a week or so. I would go out during the day looking for you and at night I would go home and wait by the phone for you to call. I would get home and see that dad had left a message or two and could tell by his voice that he was worried and growing more and more irritated as his calls went unanswered.

One day I came home, exhausted and fully prepared to call someone, anyone for help; but, it was too late. I drove into the driveway and almost crashed into dad's truck. I turned off the car and sat behind the wheel too scared to go inside. I had thought about starting her back up and leaving but dad had come out of the house and I realized the best move was to go inside and face the music.

I couldn't look at him. He stood there on the porch his arms folded across his chest with that look he gets; you know, the one that would send even the most self respecting demon running for cover.

By the look of him I could tell that he wasn't in any mood for any crap. I walked up the porch steps and before I had the chance to even say hi, he grabbed me by the front of my shirt and threw me inside, slamming the door hard behind us. I tripped over my own feet and fell. I put my hands out in front of me and managed to catch myself before I landed face first on the living room floor. Dad grabbed me by the shirt collar and jerked me up. To say he was pissed would have been an understatement.

He turned me around, gripped my forearms tight and slammed me hard into the wall. I heard it crack with the force in which I had come into contact with it and felt the air leave my lungs as it was knocked out of me. I stood there dazed; he started screaming at me, calling me stupid and asked me over and over why I hadn't kept a better eye on you. He said that after what happened with the Strigha, all those years ago, that he couldn't believe I wouldn't have kept a better eye on you.

I could smell the whiskey on his breath and knew that reasoning with him was a lost cause; he was drunk and angry and I was going to have to ride this one out. I stood there listening to him and I began to believe he was right. It was my fault you were gone, I should have known not to have left you in our room alone that long. I should have kept a better eye on you."

Sam let out an exasperated huff that caused his older sibling to pause. "Dean there wasn't anything you could have done differently that would have kept me from running away. Sure, you could have kept me tied to you, but as soon as you needed to use the bathroom I would have bolted, that is if you didn't make me go in with you. I was angry with you and dad and I wanted to get away. If I had known what was going to happen to you….." Sam faltered his voice becoming thick with emotion, "Dean, you have to believe me, I wouldn't have left if I had known dad was going to do that to you."

"Yeah well, that's a mute point now isn't it Sam," Dean continued his voice sharp, the emotion it held cutting deep into Sam's soul, "because you did leave." Dean's eyes flashed and they took on a distant look, "Oh, he didn't stop with calling me names and slamming me into the wall. No, Sammy, he decided that this time he was going to make sure that I understood the importance of watching out for you and that failure to do so properly had consequences; dire ones.

By the time he was finished I had a concussion, bruised ribs, a broken nose, black eyes and a broken arm. I had seen him mad before, hell I'd even been worked over by him before but never like this. He passed out and I crawled back to the bedroom. I was hurting so bad and knew that I needed help, but I didn't want to risk setting him off again.

I took a couple of left over pain killers and went to bed. By the morning my arm had become distended and my eyes were practically swollen shut. I had started to run a fever and felt as if I had gone twenty rounds with a semi and lost.

Dad came in; he had sobered up, and told me that he was taking me to see some friend of Bobby's who ran a clinic in the area. This friend knew about hunters and treated them free of charge and with the greatest of discretion. He set my arm, wrapped my ribs, prescribed more pain killers and had suggested that I stay put in one place and get plenty of rest.

Dad kindly thanked the man but explained that we needed to find you and that I would be fine, I could rest in the car while he drove. As we pulled away from the clinic dad told me that he had a lead on where you might be. He had made some calls, while the doc was fixing me up and had heard that another hunter had seen you around the Flagstaff area.

The ride to Flagstaff was an uncomfortable one. Dad was still mad as hell that I had let you run away and he refused to talk to me any more than he had to. I tried to apologize to him, tell him I was sorry, but he just kept telling me to shut up.

By the time we had tracked you down; he had settled some and started to treat me like he had before. He did make it clear to me that you weren't to know what had happened, and believe me I wasn't about to defy him on that one," Dean stopped and let out a strangled laugh. " Gee, Sammy, I guess that explains a lot. You asked me why I always blindly followed dad's orders, well now you know." Dean looked down at his hands and he fell silent unable to continue.

"Son of a," Sam softly blew out, "Dean, I never knew. The way you talked about dad it was as if you idolized him. I don't get it. He did that to you and you never told anyone. You kept protecting him, defending him; Dean why did you stay? Why didn't you leave?"

"I couldn't. I couldn't leave you alone with him. Besides he was dad, you know, dad. I did look up to him. He was larger than life. He was family. Sammy, you and dad were the only family I had left and I wasn't going to turn my back on it. I know he loved us and he was only doing the best he could. Then when you left for Stanford, he became the only family I had."

"Dean, you could have come with me. You could have left him behind; gotten out. You didn't have to stay."

"That's just it, Sam, I couldn't. He wasn't always like that, you know. Oh, sure he was hard on us and would yell a lot; but he wasn't ever really that violent. I guess I always just forgave him because I knew he was in a lot of pain over losing mom," Dean held his hand out before Sam could interrupt, "Don't have to say it, Sammy, I know, years had gone by, but the sting of that kind of loss, is one that I can only imagine time couldn't heal or soften."

"That may be so, but, Dean that still didn't give him the right to take it out on you. I was the one who ran away. I was the one who constantly challenged him. If he was going to do that to anyone it should have been me," Sam gently insisted.

"Yeah, well what's done is done. We can't change it," Dean replied his voice sounding tired and drawn, "Look it's late and I'm tired." He stood up from the bed, grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste out of his duffel along with a fresh pair of boxers and a clean T-shirt and headed into the bathroom.

Sam watched as his brother closed the bathroom door. He listened for the water to turn on in the shower before he changed into his sleep clothes. Sam turned on the light that sat on the nightstand between his bed and Dean's and then he turned off the overhead light. He slipped into bed and listened to the water as it fell from the shower head. Turning on his side, so that he was facing his brother's bed he whispered, "I am sorry Dean, I really am."

Dean stood under the shower's hot spray and let the water's warmth work the kinks out of his neck and back muscles. He thought telling Sam would make him feel better, but the truth of the matter was it didn't. Too much had happened. Too much had changed since he had first reunited with his brother four years ago. His world was constantly being turned upside down and this latest twist was just another hole punched in his already beaten and battered soul.

Sam had said he was sorry. He had said that he would have never left if he had known dad was going to do what he did, but he had never said that he wouldn't have left if he had known how much his leaving would have hurt, him. Sam didn't get it and he wasn't sure he ever would.

Dean turned off the shower, brushed his teeth, pulled on his sleep clothes and headed to bed. He watched Sam as he slept, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. Dean, felt a twinge in his chest as he realized that he was alone, even though Sam was there, he was still alone. His entire life everyone he had ever cared about or needed had abandoned him; starting with his dad, then Sam and now God. Maybe Zach was right, the fault lied with him and no one else. He slid into bed, turned off the light and settled in for another restless night.


End file.
